


The difference between living and existing

by lucy_is_alive



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Trauma, Dean fucks up a lot, F/M, I suck at tagging, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:28:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22617136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucy_is_alive/pseuds/lucy_is_alive
Summary: As soon as he got the chance, Dean left his father behind and went to college. However, he never anticipated that the absence of the person who had disrupted his entire life would make it worse. With the help of his friends, he tries to navigate through the emotional hurricane that comes with complex PTSD.---A lot of the things Dean will go through are based on my personal experiences. This will be my outlet during my own recovery. I’m hoping this fic can give you guys a peek into what it’s like to live in the aftermath of a traumatic childhood, and how sometimes just getting away from the person who abused you is not enough. Please be nice when commenting and remember I’m sharing a part of my soul with you <3Also, I've made a mood playlist for this fichttps://music.apple.com/nl/playlist/the-difference-between-living-and-existing/pl.u-gxblgJJsbgDm6Mj?l=enhttps://open.spotify.com/playlist/33bg0rU926Gn1SC7F7FWUw?si=8xTpAJ3bQTS0ZzuK_keXJgIf you have questions about either the notes or c-PTSD feel free to message me on Tumblr:https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lucy-is-alive
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dorothy Baum/Charlie Bradbury, Jo Harvelle/Dean Winchester, Kaia Nieves/Claire Novak
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	1. I might be alive, but I’m not really living

**Author's Note:**

> Come on, baby  
> Keep it down  
> Honey, hush your lips  
> Clothes trailing  
> From the backdoor  
> To the bedroom  
> And I don't even know your name

_November 2019_

Dean got snapped out of his trance-like state by the young woman beneath him, moaning his name, too loud, too _fake_. He had gotten so accustomed to going through the motions he barely even registered the girls he slept with anymore. Usually, they’d be quiet enough for him to pretend they weren’t even there. The fake porn moans were an unwelcome surprise. He hadn’t bothered learning the girl’s name, he wouldn’t bother staying the night, and there wouldn’t be any post-sex cuddling. It was just a hook-up. Just a way to relieve the tension and stress caused by the weight of papers that had to be turned in and finals slowly creeping upon him. To him, the girl beneath him was just another blond-haired co-ed he would never see again. He rushed his orgasm, desperate to get away. He cleaned up and got dressed as quickly as he could after and left without telling the girl goodbye. He didn’t care when she looked at him with the appalled expression so many girls had before. He just chuckled as she threw a shoe at him as he was leaving. He never understood how, even though they knew about his reputation, these girls still expected more from him. As if they were hoping they would be different and could somehow fix him. Dean closed the door behind him and hurried his way out of the dorms, into the cold November air.

He remembered how nervous he had been when he lost his virginity. He had just turned fourteen, and John had been pushing him for months, telling him it was time he’d become a man. Eventually, John told him that if Dean didn’t want to become a man, he wasn’t even worth the food on the table, and he wouldn’t get to eat until he did as John wanted. So, he did what his dad asked. The girl he brought home was a classmate who he knew had been crushing on him since the first day of freshman year, Stacey. She was pretty and incredibly kind, but Dean didn’t like her the way she wanted him to. John, however, made sure to tell him how proud he was. When he broke up with her a few months later, she had cried as if it had been the end of the world, while Dean just stood there, wishing he could take it all back. The next time he brought a girl home, his dad wasn’t proud. Dean was rewarded with name-calling instead. _Man-whore. Slut._ He never understood why John had pushed him to sleep with someone, only to be disappointed when he did the same with someone else. He never asked, he just let the words burn into his memories, like everything else his dad had ever told him. _You’re a disappointment. You can’t do anything right. You’re a whore. You don’t matter_. After hearing them often enough, Dean actually started to believe them to be true.

So, after his second girlfriend, he kept dating a string of girls, spending more and more time away from home. Sex became a currency. He would sleep with any girl that showed interest in him, as long as he got some time away from his father in return. His relationships never lasted long, and the break-ups never hurt, even if he wasn’t the one doing it. In hindsight, it’s safe to say he hadn’t been in love with any of them. He had never even felt attracted to any of them. Like most things, being in a relationship felt like he was on autopilot, being whatever the girl he was with wanted him to be. Once he graduated high school and left for college with his best friend, Charlie, he even forgot their names, all of them blurring together in memories he’d rather leave behind. The day they left Lawrence in his car, he took nothing but his clothes and the books that had provided him with the only real safe place he had ever known. Fiction was the only escape he had from his father’s harsh words. Maybe things would have been different if he had told Charlie, but he was afraid he’d just scare her away if he did.

Since he started to attend college, and he no longer had to sleep with people to get away from his father, it had only gotten worse. Not speaking to his dad only made the familiar voice in his head louder. Even when he wasn’t there, John still had a hold over him. _Slut. Worthless. Waste of space._ It never stopped, and neither did Dean. He slept with any girl willing to, playing the role his dad had created for him perfectly. He had almost dropped out after failing his first exam, Charlie being the one convincing his he shouldn’t.

He walked back to the apartment he rented with his best friend, Charlie. They lived off-campus, away from the frat-house drama he often heard about in his classes. He opened the front door and kicked off his shoes in the narrow hallway. As he walked in, he saw Charlie sitting on their couch, looking up at him from her worn-out copy of the lord of the rings. “Another hook-up?” she asked, a smug look on her face. Dean shrugged, unsure what to say. Charlie was a hopeless romantic and had only had a few long-term relationships. More than once, Dean had considered asking her what it felt like, loving someone. He dropped his bag on the floor and plopped down on the couch. Charlie didn’t need words to know what Dean needed next. She put her book down and pulled him into a hug. “I wish I could read your mind, so I knew what was going on in there. Whenever you come back from one of your dates, you just look kind of sad.” She sighed. “Is it really worth it, all the tinder dates? Don’t you ever want something more?”

Since moving in with her, Dean had shown Charlie small parts of him he had never shown anyone, so she could always tell when he was sad. Of course, she still had no idea why, but at least she knew. At least he had someone who cared about him enough to notice. After a few minutes of just sitting there, contemplating telling his friend his darkest secrets, Dean got up. “I’m, uh, just tired, I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” He walked into his room without waiting for a reply. He stripped down to his boxers and got under the covers, waiting for a restless night of sleep that he was sure wouldn’t come. Instead, Charlie’s words kept haunting him. _Is it really worth it, all the tinder dates? Don’t you ever want something more?_ Yes. The regular hook-ups were doing the job just fine. _You’re a whore_. John was right, he was a slut, and that would never change. _Bullshit_. He could almost hear Charlie say it. And maybe she would be right. Maybe he did want something more. Maybe he kept going on these dates, hoping he’d meet a girl that made him go weak in his knees. Someone he would want to spend the night with. Have breakfast the next day. But how do you tell a hopeless romantic that your biggest fear is that you’ll never feel like that? How do you tell a person who can romanticize anything that you have never been in love? _I’m nineteen, and I’ve never been in love._

_I’m Dean Winchester. I’m nineteen, and I have never been in love. I’ve slept with a lot of girls, and I don’t remember their names. I’m a slut. My dad hates me. I think I hate me. I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what I want. What do I want?_

Dean felt like he was going to be sick. He could feel his blood pound in his ears. For some reason, he couldn’t breathe, and he was sweating profusely. Was he having a panic attack? He hadn’t had one in years. He got up and started to pace the room. He had to breathe. He had to calm down. Calming down, however, felt impossible, a million thoughts running through his head.

_In and out. Just breathe. In and out._

The more he thought about it, the more confident he was that he actually did hate himself, or at least the person he had become. He hated parts of the person he had become. He tried to remember the last time he was truly happy, but he couldn’t. Had it been before his mom died? Had everything gone downhill after? He tried to focus on the few things he was sure about.

_I’m Dean Winchester. Charlie Bradbury is my best friend. She loves me. I love her like I would love a sister. I like videogames and books. I like listening to classic rock music. I like vintage cameras. I pretend I don’t like chick-flicks, but I secretly do. I love my brother. I loved my mother. I hate my father._

He kept repeating them, like a mantra, in his head until he was finally able to fall asleep. In his dream, he was back in high school, his junior year. The school day had ended, and he was sitting on a patch of grass with his friend, Lee. Lee lit a cigarette and handed it to Dean. It was his first cigarette, and he was sure he would die the second the smoke entered his lungs. He coughed, and his friend laughed, telling him he would get used to it. Dean felt warm and fuzzy whenever Lee’s hand brushed his. The sat and talked for hours, until John found them, obviously outraged when he saw Dean this close to his friend. Friends don’t share cigarettes, it’s wrong, he had said when they got home, as if he walked into something intimate. His dad had always had a very spoken opinion on what was right and wrong, and apparently, sharing a cigarette with your male friend was wrong. Dean woke up a couple of times during the night, but he returned to that memory every time he fell back asleep. The warm feeling in his stomach lingered until morning.

When he left his room, Charlie was already making pancakes, something she did every Saturday. The coffeemaker was softly bubbling in the corner of their small kitchen. Dean laughed at the sight of Charlie dancing around the kitchen to Taylor Swift. He loved having her eternally bubbly personality around, it kept him from drowning in his own melancholy. Charlie turned around and used the spatula as a microphone while singing along to the music of key, often pointing the make-shift microphone towards Dean, hoping he would one day give in and sing along with her. He chuckled and slipped past her to grab two plates and fill two mugs with the freshly brewed – much needed – coffee. He put a bit of cream and two cubes of sugar in Charlie’s signature Zelda mug, just the way she liked it. He remembered their first conversation in high school, when Dean had accidentally called Link Zelda, and Charlie ranted about how Zelda was the princess and Link the hero who had to save her for hours. They had been best friends ever since, and Dean had bought her the mug as a birthday present. Their morning ritual was as much of a routine as his tinder dates, but it was in no way as suffocating. _I like our morning routines_ , Dean thought, adding it to his mental list of things he didn’t hate about his life.

As they did every Saturday, they would spend the rest of the morning and most of their afternoon trying to catch up on their assignments. Dean grabbed his laptop and books from his room before starting his pancakes. When they first moved in, they decided their assignments were to be done at the kitchen table, so neither one of them would spend too much time alone in their rooms. Charlie was buried deep into her c# coding book, which to him, sounded way less fun than his literature course. Today, all he had to do was read. He had chosen ‘the price of salt,’ a novel Charlie had recommended. He would have to write an analytical paper on it in a few weeks, but for now, he could indulge in just reading. The way the author described the relationship between the main character and another woman reminded him about the warm feeling he felt when he had dreamed about Lee that night. Is that what attraction felt like? Dean glared at Charlie. She liked girls, and he never considered it to be wrong. _Maybe John was the one who was wrong_.

Just after four, when Charlie had clearly given up on getting any more studying done – she had just let out the most dramatic sigh humanly possible and mumbled something about not deserving this – they moved from the kitchen table to the couch. Dean smirked as he grabbed a bottle of vodka from under the sofa. “Drunk Mario Kart?”.

Charlie smiled competitively at him. “You know I’ll still kick your ass, even when I’m drunk.”

Dean didn’t doubt it for a second. They took a few chugs before starting the game, and a few after every race. They played for hours, Charlie winning every single round, no matter how hard Dean tried. They devoured the weekly pizza they had delivered as if it was the best meal they ever had. They played a game of never have if ever. They laughed, and for a second, Dean forgot how miserable he had felt the day before. He almost didn’t notice the notification on his phone. Another tinder match. Out of habit, he opened the chat.

_Kathy [20:43]: Hey handsome (;_

_Kathy [20:43]: I’m on campus today and bored out of my skull, wanna come over?_

Dean typed a quick reply, saying he’d love to. He took a quick shower and put on a clean shirt before walking towards the door. As soon as he put his hand on the apartment’s front door, he stopped. _I’m Dean Winchester. I’m nineteen, and I have never been in love. I’ve slept with a lot of girls, and I don’t remember their names. I won’t remember Kathy tomorrow. I hate myself for it._ He let go of the doorknob for just a second. He shouldn’t go. He should stay home with Charlie and play stupid games and read books and talk about his brother. Against his better judgment, he went anyway. As expected, Kathy didn’t make him feel any better. She made him feel even worse.

When he got back home, he sat down on the couch, trying to hide the embarrassment and guilt he felt. He could feel Charlie’s eyes burning on him, but he knew she wouldn’t ask. Instead, she handed him his controller, inviting him for another game. Call of duty, this time. There was something cathartic about first-person shooters. They somehow made Dean feel better when he felt like shit, and somehow Charlie knew that he needed it now. It would calm him down for a while, but he could already feel the dark thoughts poking at the back of his head. He thought about how hard he tried to keep his fictional soldier alive and how he didn’t feel like he was alive himself at all. Most days, he felt like he was just drifting. Set on autopilot. When the game ended, he put his controller down. He thought about how thin the line between being alive and living was.

 _“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”_ Dean couldn’t remember where he had read the quote, but he was sure he just existed right now. He had to tell Charlie how he’d been feeling lately. She could help him, hell, she helped him get through a lot worse. But mostly, he wanted – no, he _needed_ – to know what it felt like to be in love. The chick flicks they often watched together made it seem so easy, but Dean had never felt that way about anyone, except maybe Lee, if his dad hadn’t told him it was wrong. Maybe if his dad had let him figure out what the unfamiliar feeling in his chest had meant he wouldn’t be in this situation right now. Or, alternatively, maybe if he hadn’t listened to him the entire time, he wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe if Dean hadn’t let John dictate every single thing in his life, he could have been normal. Maybe he would have liked himself, and maybe, just maybe, he would have been happy.

He sat up and took a deep breath. For a minute, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. _I hate myself._ He wasn’t sure he did. _I hate my dad because he ruined me._ He couldn’t blame all of it on his dad, after all, he was the one who listened. _I think maybe the reason hooking up with girls makes me sad is because I might be into guys._ Again, something he wasn’t sure about. _I have never been in love, but I want to be, I just don’t know how. I don’t even like myself, so how can I expect someone else to? What does it feel like to be in love? Is it the warm, fuzzy ball I felt in my stomach that day with Lee?_ There were so many things he wanted to ask Charlie, and he had no idea how to start. All he knew is that he wanted to change. He didn’t want to keep going the way he had been this year.

“Charlie?” Dean asked, scratching the back of his head.

“Mhm,” She replied. “What’s up?”

“I don’t think I like who I am anymore.” He said, with tears burning behind his eyes.


	2. Scars don’t heal if you keep cutting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it took so long to update! Real life got in the way.
> 
> \--
> 
> To heal a wound you need to stop touching it.

_November 2019_

Once he started to talk to Charlie, it seemed like he couldn't shut up anymore. Everything he had been carefully storing away in a box in the back of his mind spilling out, like a tsunami hitting the shore. No matter the aftermath, there was no stopping it. He felt the waves hit the carefully mapped out personality he had built in his mind and imagined it all unfolding like a collapsing Jenga tower when you pull out the wrong block. Well, more like a Jenga tower collapsing after you forcefully remove about ten blocks from the tower's foundation. Once you strip away the pretend happiness and the fake not-a-care-in-the-world attitude he had created around himself, there wasn't much left other than the scared little kid he used to be right after his mom died. He had expected Charlie would run in the opposite direction five minutes in, but she just sat next to him and listened quietly, his hand in hers. Dean curled up into her, silently sobbing. He had no idea how long he had been crying, but it felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders. Charlie sighed as she wiped a tear from his face. "You know I'd do anything to help you, Dean, but sweetie, you really need to talk to a professional. I know the campus has its own office; they offer counseling for free. I really think you should make an appointment."

Dean nodded. He didn't want to see a shrink, but he knew it was the only way he could truly be okay. "I will. I'll call them Monday morning. Thank, Charlie, for listening – for being here."

She hugged him. "I'm always here. I do have one suggestion, though, something that might help. Delete the Tinder app, please, at least until you figure yourself out."

Dean didn't hesitate when he deleted his profile or when he removed the dating app from his phone. It hadn't done anything but hurt him. Charlie was right; he had to figure himself out first before getting back in the dating pool.

Next Thursday, Dean had his first appointment with a counselor. He nervously walked around the waiting room, still unsure he really wanted to go in. As he paced back and forth, he noticed a woman coming out of one of the offices. "Dean Winchester?" she asked. "Over here, please, come in."

Dean nodded at her and followed her in silently. He watched as she sat down at her desk and pointed at the chairs on the other side. He hesitated before sitting down, still unsure whether going was a good idea in the first place. He never thought he needed a shrink, let alone actually going to one. After he awkwardly stared at his counselor for a minute, he decided to take the left chair and sat himself down.

"Welcome, Dean. My name is Mrs. Moseley, but you can call me Missouri if you like. I used to teach psychology here, but I realized I much rather helped my students out with personal problems. So, now I counsel students." She smiled at Dean. "What can you tell me about why you're here? And don't worry, you can tell me as much as your comfortable with, I know how difficult it can be to talk to strangers like that." 

Dean swallowed hard. "Uh, I – I don't really know where to start. I guess it just feels like everything is collapsing on me and I don't like myself, or parts of myself. And lately, it feels like I can't even breathe anymore. But mostly, I don't know where to start."

Missouri looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Is there anything, in particular, you don't like, something more specific? Like, for example, what made you decide to come here today?"

Dean blushed. He knew he could tell her the real reason, but should he? Missouri seemingly noticed his initial hesitation. "You can tell me anything, nothing you say is leaving this room, I won't even take notes if you don't want me to."

"I – uh. I guess if I had to pick one thing it'd be - I'm ashamed of it, but ever since I got here, I've been hooking up with girls a lot, but I don't enjoy it, I guess. Usually, I kind of zone out, and I don't really notice I'm doing it. Having sex, I mean. Not that I did in high school, but it happened less back then. The worst part is that I can't stop. I keep replying to messages, and I keep going, even though I know I'm going to feel like shit after."

"Is it okay if I'm forward with my questions towards you, Dean?" Missouri asked. Dean nodded in reply. "Do you think you have ever enjoyed having sex?"

Dean didn't answer straight away. He just looked at the woman across from him. _Have I ever enjoyed having sex_? He took a deep breath before answering. "Maybe the first time, or maybe I was just nervous. My dad, he told me it was time for me to become a man. That's why I did it anyway. I don't think I would have if he didn't want me to. But I can't remember whether or not I liked it."

Missouri nodded at him. "I suspected as much. When you called, you mentioned your dad a few times, too. Unfortunately, we're out of time for today. But I'd like to ask you to come back on Tuesday, and if you can, try to make a list of the things you don't like about yourself, the things that make you feel the way you do."

"Uh – okay," Dean replied. He let out a relieved sigh. Therapy wasn't as bad as he expected, he kind of liked Missouri. "I'll come back next week," he promised as he walked towards the door. He keeps thinking about how Missouri didn't seem to judge him all the way home. He would definitely tell Charlie about her.

Much to his surprise, when he gets back home, Charlie is waiting for him at the kitchen table. Usually, she would be in class right now. "Charles, didn't you have a class this afternoon?" he asked, already suspecting the reason she skipped it.

Charlie walked over to the kitchen counter and turned one of the pits of the stove on and put on the kettle. "I did, but when your best friend has his first therapy session, you have a valid reason to skip a terribly boring lecture. Come on, talk to me."

Dean threw his bag in the corner and sat down on one of their mismatched chairs. He patiently waited for the water to boil and for Charlie to make him a cup of tea, before opening up. "Well, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. My therapist – Missouri – is actually really nice. She did give me homework. Uh – I have to make a list of the things I don't like about myself."

_Chad [16:43]: Did you see a counselor today lol? Swear I saw you walk out of the office. Why were you there?_

_Dean [16:44]: I'm just going through something rn. I'm just taking a step back for a while, so I might skip drinking tomorrow night._

A few minutes later, he heard his phone buzz again. His friends created a new group chat. He opened the message to see what they were up to. Probably talking about the game they would be going to tomorrow.

_Chad [16:52]: Okay, so, today I saw Dean leave the counselor's office and he just told me he isn't coming to the game._

_Sebastian [16:53]: Dude really? You can't seriously be blowing us off because of *feelings*_

_Michael [16:53]: Wuss._

_Paul [16:54]: What's next, you gonna tell us your gay now? Fuck off._

_James [16:56]: We all have bad days Dean, but do you see us putting our lives aside to deal with shit?_

Dean watched as the messages kept coming in. They didn't stop, the bubbles kept popping up. He felt his heart beating in his ears. Every message was worse than the one before, as if Dean had attacked his friends personally when he walked into Missouri's office that day.

_Dean [17:02]: I'm not saying I'm not hanging out with you guys anymore, I just need a little time to work on myself. Just no getting shitfaced every Friday for a bit._

_Sebastian [17:03]: Oh my god, don't be such a girl. I don't fucking feel like dealing with this shit. Are you coming tomorrow or not?_

After that, Dean stopped reading what they were writing. He watched as his message got pushed all the way to the top until it finally stopped. For a few minutes, his friends were silent. That's when the real bomb dropped.

_Tanner [17:13]: Dude, either suck it up or lose our numbers. I don't care._

He put his phone away and walked to his room. _Suck it up or lose our numbers. Suck it up or lose our numbers._ The message kept repeating in his mind. Maybe he should suck it up and cancel his appointment on Tuesday. He buried his head in his pillow and screamed as loud as he could before the tears started to pour out. He didn't stop until he felt Charlie's hand running up and down his back. 

"what's wrong?" she asked him softly. Dean didn't reply; instead, he just handed her his phone. Charlie's face got redder with every message she read. "Oh my god Dean, they're such assholes. Ugh. They –"She stopped as she gasped for breath. "You deserve better. Maybe it's better if you did lose their numbers. Urgh, I could punch them right now."

Dean grabbed his phone from her hand and left the group chat. He hovered over the contacts icon on his home screen. Was this really worth losing all his friends over? He thought back to last Friday, after he broke down the first time, how Charlie was there for him. He wouldn't lose all his friends. He would just lose a bunch of drinking buddies. He bit his tongue as he deleted their contact information. _Lose our numbers. I don't care, Tanner had said. They didn't care whether Dean would remain a part of their group._ Deep down, Dean didn't care either. He looked up at Charlie. She was his friend, and she always would be. 

"Hey, I was thinking, maybe some burgers will cheer you up. I'm going to get your favorite. Extra bacon right, with curly fries?" Charlie asked him. Dean took a deep breath and nodded. Burgers did sound good, although he doubted it would make him feel any better. _You fucked everything up again, like you always do,_ he thought. _Good job, Winchester._

Barely fifteen minutes later, Charlie returned with a take-out bag from Joe's. She forced Dean to the kitchen table and grabbed an empty notepad and a pen. "We're going work on your list together," she declared. "No matter how often you break down or mess something up, I'm going to be right here and face the shitshow with you."

Dean grabbed the notepad and started writing.

Things I don't like about myself.

He stared at the piece of paper. There were a lot of things he hated about himself, but writing them down was more difficult than he anticipated. He took a deep breath and put the tip off the ballpoint pen down on the lined paper.

_I don't like that I always do what my dad wants me to do._

_I don't like that I don't have a lot of friends._

_I don't like how much I party._

_I don't like how sex means nothing to me._

_I don't like that I haven't talked to my brother since the start of the semester._

_I don't like hiding how I feel from Charlie._

"What about how you always put everyone else's needs before yours?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah. I do that a lot, don't I?"

"You do. And you never let me help you."

_I don't like how I always put everyone else's needs before mine._

_I never let other people help me._

_I overwork myself._

_I feel worthless._

Dean put the pen down and finished his burger before it got cold. He had written enough down for Missouri to work with, but he was sure he'd come up with more along the way. As he put the last few fries in his mouth, he looked at Charlie. "Let's play Call of Duty. I really feel like shooting something right now." 

She laughed. "I was hoping you'd say that."

They both skipped their classes on Friday spend the entire weekend watching movies in their pajamas. For once, Dean didn't feel that bad about himself. A few times, he actually laughed. They threw popcorn at each other and debated about whether or not Dean would be a Gryffindor if they went to Hogwarts. 

On Tuesday, when Dean had his next appointment with Missouri, he wasn't as nervous as he was the first time. He handed her the list without hesitation and watched as she read it carefully, taking some notes. She had asked him if she could write a few things down when he first got inside, to which Dean had agreed. 

"Okay, so these are things you don't like about yourself," she finally asked. "Have you thought about how you can change the way you approach things, too?"

"Uh, no. Not yet. Some things happened after Thursday that made me feel pretty horrible. A few people who I thought were my friends told me that if I wanted to keep coming here, they didn't want to hang out anymore. Charlie helped me, though. She – she's amazing," Dean said. "We spend the weekend watching movies. Just generally being lazy. I actually had a lot of fun."

Missouri smiled back at him. "I'm glad you had fun. And I'm sorry to hear about your friends, although I don't think you should consider them friends in the first place." She tapped on the piece of paper in front of her with her pencil. "But I think you already figured that one out yourself."

Dean smiled faintly. "Actually, it was Charlie who told me."

"So, it's safe to say Charlie knows you pretty well?"

Dean nodded. "I've known her since middle school. We've been best friends forever. She knows about everything. Even – even about my dad." He swallowed hard. "She's the only person I've told about the things my dad has done to me."

Missouri looked him straight in the eyes. "What did your father do to you?"

Dean hesitated again. Most of the things his father had done to him seemed like minor things. He wasn't even sure it could be called abuse. "He, uhm, had this idea of who I had to be, and if I didn't do as he said, he'd punish me. He didn't abuse me, at least, I don't think it could really be called abuse. Nothing physical, not often anyway, but he wouldn't let me have dinner or lock me in an empty room. Or he would force me to stand in the cold shower until I agreed to do as he said. He hit me a few times, but always in places people wouldn't notice. And he had these very black and white opinions on things, like, gay people and immigrants. And…" he paused before he let the words slip past his lips. "Black people. One time he caught me smoking with a friend, and he was more disappointed about the fact that I was sharing a cigarette with a dude than the fact that I was smoking in the first place."

"You do realize everything you just mentioned is very much considered abuse, right?" Missouri replied.

Dean frowned. He never thought of his dad as abusive. "But – there are so many people who get beaten every day and – "

"Let me stop you there. The fact that your father didn't beat you, at least not regularly, doesn't make him less of an abusive parent. He abused you emotionally, and he neglected your needs. That's abuse. Now, I don't know your father, so I can't be sure, but from what I'm hearing he was pretty coercive when it came to doing as he wanted, which can cause some serious mental issues later in life; you never got to develop yourself the way you wanted. Instead, you had to become the person your dad wanted you to be. And his rigorous views on right and wrong – correct me if I'm wrong, but he probably considered homosexuality to be wrong – didn't give you the space to explore your own sexuality, and it seems like that's something you're struggling with."

Dean nodded. "I, uh – I don't know. Lee, the friend I was smoking with - it felt different from Charlie. Maybe I liked his as more than just a friend."

Missouri smiled at him. "It's almost half-past three, we're out of time again. Will I see you again this Thursday? If you can, bring me a list of things you want for yourself."

Dean nodded. "Thank you. I'll be here on Thursday."

Dean rushed home, went straight to his room, grabbed the notepad from his bag, and started to write.

Things I want to change about myself

_I want to like who I am._

_I want to be more confident with who I am._

_I want to not feel worthless._

_I want to spend more time with Charlie._

_I want more real friends._

_I want to go out and do things I actually like instead of doing things other people want to do._

_I want to wake up and feel happy._

_I want to spend more time working on studying._

_I don't want to be afraid anymore._

_I want to stop caring about who my dad wanted me to be._

_I want to talk with my brother more often._

_~~I want to fall in love.~~ _

_~~I want to fall in love with someone.~~ _

_~~I want to know what it feels like to fall in love.~~ _

_I want to fall in love._


End file.
